Harsh Truths
by eternalpessimist
Summary: the characters are a certain mage that we all love, and a loony god, and it's what they're doing while MINA, who I 'love so much' is, well, taking over the world


****this is just something that I was playing around with when I wasn't doing the work I was suppose to. It's around the time of Dragons of a Fallen Sun.

Disclaimer: I do not own any DL related things, I wish I did, but I'm not as creative as the genius's Weiss and Hickman, as much as I'd like to pretend. OH, and I'm not saying that this is actually what's going on during the Fifth Age, and uh, well come on people, it's just a story.

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A shrouded figure came out from mortal darkness into darkness eternal. Living eyes seemed to evaporate from their very skulls, burning away to eternal night. Though a creature of the night himself, the man seemed uneasy, seeing things only in his head, wishing his staff could light his way, seeing nothing. Eternal gratitude filled the core of his very being as about him came a light, light so pure it was not to be seen anywhere by anyone. Though the light brought him comfort, that comfort was taken badly, resented. Eyes that had miraculously returned to their owner narrowed, not in submission as they should have, but as though challenging this great being into speaking, even acknowledging, the hope that had risen in even his dark crevices. The two beings seemed to be silently duelling with each other. 

Finally, the god was satisfied. "Well?" asked the non-aging voice, filled with eternal patience. 

The man's eyes cleared. "Free me." The request seemed more like a command.

The god's expression did not change, "Impossible child."

"There was a time when one had thought the coming of dragons impossible." The shrouded figure said humorously, the beginning of a sardonic smile edging on his face. 

"Those same people had thought the gods had turned on them," the god admonished placidly. "Now child, we could sit around and discuss theology all day, but come, come, let us not lounge about around here." The god eyed him shrewdly. "Come, there is something you must see first." The god held out his hand.

"No, I have seen all I want to," He blanched back.

"You fool," The god bubbled, laughter on his lips. "you have seen nothing in years, when your nephew abandoned you."

Even the epitome of evil could laugh at the god's jest, but the last statement had lashed him worse than any mortal wound could. He opened his mouth to talk, but thought better of it and closed it. His eyes clouded over, his expression turned inward, revealing intense soul searching. He turned back to the craft of his childhood, fast thinking and insubstantial consequences. Finally, his expression smoothed but for his brow, his eyes cleared. "Very well then."

The god arched his eyebrows and smiled. "It won't be pleasant." 

Sarcasm and a sardonic smile resumed their spot on the man's face, they developed his voice and his features. "Really? But my life has been has a bed of godforsaken roses." His eyes grew a bit wider. "No pun intended."

The god's eyes softened, but much to the mages relief did not even resemble pity. The god knows what this man has done, and what he is still capable of doing. "This will not be a physical pain," the god cautioned, "Nor will it be an emotional one." The god of ultimate good closed his eyes, which had until then remained unblinking, and a cloud seemed to rise over him, and the man thought for one debilitating moment that the god was leaving, leaving _him_ in that darkness. Sensing the man's distress, and knowing that he was not hiding the very distress he has worked so hard to overcome. His voice was weighed with sadness, seemed as heavy as a knight in full armour and chain mail. "No, this pain will last you forever, until the depths of the end of time this pain will torment you.

"The pain the is the pain of guilt, multiplied to infinity, and taken to the depths of souls. The pain of hearing you children, mothers, fathers, cousins, enemies, lovers, all calling out to you, reaching for you, only to find you are gone, though you'll never really be gone. The pain of leaving your creation - no, more than that, your sanctuary- so that it may survive, and being hated, questioned about what you gave up, sacrificed, being reviled, and watching it slowly kill itself, wanting to help, yet being unable to. The pain will be pain forever."

The black soul, nearly dissipated, was unmoved by his superior. "Pretty words, Old One. But guilt has never been a part of me. Never." The man repeated, seeing the god's disbelief. 

"If I cannot sway you and you will not head my words, then come," the god held out his hand once again and mimicked the man's smile. "We've no time to spare."

Tenaciously, the man grasped the hand softly, fearing some trick, yet knowing there wasn't one. He thought back to a time when his very being had been no more than ancient myth . . . like dragons. Yet even then this very god had shaped his future, as well as his friends' and families,' at the inn of their youth. How he had gently pushed them towards their destinies, forging their souls to change the world. And how each and every soul was crushed.

"Prepare yourself," The god cautioned as he gripped the man's hand tighter, knowing a tingling sensation was enveloping him.

"I'm sure I'll manage, I have indeed travelled the ways of mages before," the evil archmagus's words were swept away as he felt the compulsion to scream out. Time, space, and flesh flashed before him as the great god drove his will to where he could only hope was their destination. All at once, the sensation drifted away, leaving the man to wonder whether it had even happened.

They were in a strange place, and to the man's thinking nothing was ever strange. The thought both reviled him and gave him comfort. It seemed as though they were in a field. Everything seemed to be there, yet nothing was whole. The sun glared overhead. The mage himself seemed to be drifting into eternal oblivion, only to hurt when he pricked himself to see if it was indeed real. He looked inquiringly at the god.

"No," the god answered his companion's unspoken question. "you may not know where we are, nor how we got here." The god pleaded with him one last time. "This is you last chance young man. There will be no turning back from here. You will not be able to pull yourself from the things you see until you are on the verge if insanity, you brain tearing apart, you very flesh dissipitating."

The mage felt the unknown feeling of fear creep up on his body. He had only known that fear when he thought the magic was leaving him. Not even when he had lain half dead, unable to talk, paralysed outside Astinus's old library in Palanthas, the brainless aesthetics gawking at him. Wonderingly, he had never know such a fear as this. It was debilitating. It spread through his body, took away his breath. He opened his eyes as a spasm passed through him. He eyed the god, standing there pitiless, even without compassion, and he knew, he knew.

"It is my soul, eating away at me." It was said as a question, but was more of a statement. A statement filled with astonishment. "I'm being tortured by my own evil." He gave a bitter smile and whispered, "evil turns upon itself."  
The god nodded his assent. Once again he folded his hand around that of evil's. The mans breathing became easier, his lungs unclenching themselves like they had in so many time far gone. He opened his eyes. He didn't move an inch. Still he stood in the field, but now it was as though night has settled. Not a thing moved, nothing stirred. The man's breathing seemed to echo throughout a cavern, yet there was no space or solid objects for his breathing to bounce off. And there were no stars in the sky. No stars, no moons, just blackness.

Another spasm gripped the mage. Not one of fear, more of a freezing sensation, paralysing his bowls. He looked at the god for guidance. The god just sat there, his non-aging eyes fully at ease. The evil mages anger stirred. "Explain this one." he demanded in a whispered gasp.

The god offered a noncommittal wiry smile. "I see there is indeed some good in you yet." The man forgot the feeling of being turned into ice long enough to glare at the god. The god just laughed. An eerie laughter echoing back from the unknown depths of forever. "I will take you somewhere where you will be more at home." 

Giving one last mirthless chuckle he snapped his fingers together. The evil mage was about to give up, but he was too slow, too defeated to have enough strength to fight. Warily he observed his surroundings. The same field, the same grass reaching to the mans knees. But now the impression of a setting sun, red spilled from the imaginary horizon. The man thought quickly. Morning light. Black evening darkness. And now the setting sun's light shining eternal. No pain capacitated him. No fear, no sensations of turning into ice. Indeed, true to the god's word, he felt at home here. He straightened his back and glared at the god, blaming him for all his imperfections. The god saw the look, absorbed it, and warily accepted it. "What was the point of that joyride, Old One?" he demanded.

"No point. I have to go first to my own plane, in order to be able to get to those of my brother and sister." The god shrugged his shoulders. "I figured you'd be the perfect candidate for my sisters home. You surprise me still. He said as an afterthought.

The man felt uncomfortable under the gaze of agelessness. He thought back to when people recoiled under his eyes. He supposed he was in their place now. "Let us just finish this." He said gruffly.

The god beckoned, the mage followed, as it may have been so many years before. The mage appropriated that he was now standing at the edge of a pool. No dirt marred the bottom, no fish distorted the surface. It was a black pool, unending, like every other object of the gods. It was a replica of a certain object of seeing he possessed in his tower. There the water was a bluish colour, here it was red, resembling the Blood Sea of Istar.

"Jump in." The god said flatly.

The mage creased his brows, laughter lines seemed to approach his face. He rethought his cutting statement, looked deep into the water . . . and jumped in.

Images flashed all around him, surrounded him. He saw his brother, making shadow puppets on the wall of bunnies. He sensed his brothers love for him, and felt the love he once felt. The images wash away with the waves. He moved rapidly through time. Past the War of the Lance, from the Inn of the Last Home, all the way to the farewell from his . . . friends. Time continued to pass, he saw his tower through the eyes of his apprentice, but the tower wasn't his tower, but then, it was. The apprentice had changed his _Shalafi's _tower. Now it stood there, crumbling,. nothing more than a mere shadow of a dream. Ghostly figures flowed through the Shoikan Grove, the Shoikan Grove turned into cypress trees, the guards of the tower long departed, the ghosts now filed through by force, carrying a familiar feel that, despite everything, the man recognized. the ghosts carried magic. Even as they delivered the magic to the tower, more of it was departing. The magic swiftly retreated, something else crashed upon the man. Horrid, unfeeling, cold amber eyes that could rival his own accursed vision - almost. The eyes were a child's eyes, a child taken into a deal that doomed all of Krynn - forever. Not just in the mortal plane, but in all eternity. The amber departed, now he was seeing many deaths, what would have once been happiness was filled with sadness, for the dead knew their fate. Faster now the waves crashed upon him. He couldn't stand it, all the pain in the world, could go against his own. For the first time in his life he felt something - compassion. His body went limp, his mind drifted off, farther and farther into nothingness. The truth was too much for him. He gave in. The magic was gone, so he should be too.

The man then felt strong arms lifting him out of oblivion. He pried his eyes open. The gods face was grieved and bereft, as though still keeping a harsh secret.

Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, "Now you know" he said softly.

The man was still a little drowsy. He looked around himself in a daze, his eyes going once again to the god. "My Queen?" he gaped breathlessly, astonished and bewildered.

Sadness flew into the eternal eyes. "Yes, child. She has doomed us all."

**** If you don't know who the man and the god are, I'm weeping for you, really, I mean it's quite obvious. 


End file.
